꒰ 糸師冴 ꒱ › sae accidentally hard launches you mdni.
pro player! sae itoshi x f! reader. inspired by mbappe so ooc lol.
sae itoshi despises social media with every fiber of his being. it’s too lukewarm for him. all his accounts are managed by some pr team that solely posts professionally shot photos of him and he only opens instagram for the following reasons:
to repost reels of his match highlights that re al’s social media team tags him in,
to reluctantly comment on shidou’s posts after receiving an absurd amount of threatening texts from him,
and to like your posts and stories within seconds of you uploading them.
the latter being the main reason he bothers to check the app.
you’ve been together since you were both awkward teenagers but sae is still adamant about keeping your relationship private. not because he’s ashamed — far from it — but because his fanbase is, for lack of a better word, unhinged.
they know he’s been in a relationship for years; he’s never denied it in interviews. what they don’t know is who he’s dating. and with how private the midfielder is, most fans had long since accepted that they’d never find out. but as fate would have it, they get their answer a few hours after re al wins the uefa champions league.
sae’s just gotten out of the shower, a towel slung low on his hips as he rummages through his bag for a fresh set of clothes.
“took you long enough” you sigh, you’ve been waiting for him on the king-sized bed — wearing nothing but his spare re al kit — for what feels like forever.
sae glances up, his usual detached expression softening for just a fraction of a second as his teal eyes sweep over you. he pads toward the bed, the carpet muffling his steps until he’s right in front of you, leaning over. his fingers brush against your collarbone as he traces the collar of the jersey.
“you’re wearing my kit again ?” he shakes his head fondly before saying, “it’s not even your size” he emphasizes his point by tugging gently at the sleeve hanging well past your elbow.
“it still looks better on me.” you grin as you look up at him.
“i think it looks better off you.” his gaze drops from your eyes to your lips and then he’s kissing you. veiny hand moving from the jersey to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place as he pours everything he felt during the match into your parted lips.
he barely pulls away, just enough to grab his phone from the nightstand without breaking the kiss completely. the screen illuminates his sharp features, casting a pale blue glow on his cheekbones as he opens the camera. he needs to commit this to memory, to capture this exact moment before he’s too lost in you to think straight.
there are few things sae itoshi loves more than taking pictures of you. he has thousands of them on his phone; candid shots of you sleeping, photos of you in his clothes, in your own, in nothing at all. on rare occasions he’ll post a picture or two on his close friends story. his way of showing you off without exposing you to his fans.
he doesn’t need to ask you to pose. you’re already turning onto your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows, and looking back at him over your shoulder. you reach back with one hand and point directly at the number ten between your shoulder blades. the soft click echoes in the hotel room as he captures the image. it’s perfect. you’re perfect. he’d be an idiot not to post it.
he’s quick, thumbs flying across the screen as he types out the caption, ‘the re al trophy’. he hits what he thinks is the right button to share this moment with his small, curated list: rin, his teammates, and shidou — who will undoubtedly send a tirade of messages saying he should be the one celebrating with sae instead of you. he tosses the phone onto the bed beside you, his attention immediately returning to more pressing matters. i.e. taking his jersey off you
he’s leaning in to press a kiss to your shoulder when his phone vibrates. once. twice. then far too incessant for a close friends story. he breaks away with a frustrated groan, snatching his phone up. to his surprise and dismay, it’s not just shidou being shidou for once. but a tsunami of notifications from his official account.
his eyes widen as he opens instagram and sees it: the picture of you, in his kit, pointing at his number. posted to his public story, not close friends. thirty seconds ago. he scrambles to delete it even though he knows it’s already too late.
“shit” his thumb hovers uselessly over the screen as the notifications continue to pour in, each one a fresh wave of public exposure. the internet moves fast when it comes to sae itoshi.
you raise a brow, turning to look at him, “what’s wrong ?”
he doesn’t answer right away. his gaze is fixed on the ceiling, but you can tell he’s not actually looking at the ornate plaster. his jaw is tight, muscle ticking beneath his skin, and his eyes are clamped shut.
years of privacy, of sidestepping paparazzi and shutting down invasive questions, of keeping the person he loves safely beyond the reach of public scrutiny — all undone in less than thirty seconds.
he drops the phone onto the bed as if it’s burned him, running a hand through his damp maroon hair, “i posted it” he mutters dejectedly. and when you remain unfazed he adds, “publicly.”
you blink, processing his words. the indifferent look on your face, completely at odds with the panic etched onto his. “oh.” you say, your voice surprisingly calm. “well, that’s one way to do it.”
sae stares at you like you’ve just grown a second head. “that’s all you have to say ?” his voice is strained, “you’re not upset ?”
“why would i be ?” he lets out a sigh of relief, picking up his phone again. his pr manager’s name is flashing on the screen, but he ignores it. he clicks on the story a fan account’s tagged him in. they’ve already zoomed in on your face, trying to match you with old, blurry pictures from the stands. it won’t take them long to find your account. you reach out to still his frantic scrolling by placing a hand on his wrist. “are you upset, sae ?”
“obviously” he stops scrolling, his thumb frozen on the screen, but he can’t bring himself to look at you, “i’m very upset with myself.”
“why ?” you press gently, your thumb stroking the inside of his wrist.
“because i was careless” he admits, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. “and i would’ve preferred to do this properly.”
you shift, moving to kneel in front of him, your hands resting on his tense shoulders. you start to knead the tight muscles, feeling him gradually relax under your touch. “define ‘properly’”
he doesn’t answer right away. he leans into your touch, his head bowing slightly as you work out a particularly stubborn knot between his shoulder blades. “i don’t know . . . i just wanted it to be on our terms. when we were ready. not because i fumbled with my phone like an idiot.”
sae itoshi, who can slot a penalty past the world’s best keeper without so much as trembling, is freaking out over an accidental hard launch. you can’t help but laugh. it makes his shoulders, which were slowly relaxing under your touch, stiffen all over again.
“don’t laugh at me. it’s not funny,” he mutters, though there’s no real heat behind his words. “not in the slightest.”
“you’re right, it’s not funny, it’s adorable” you lean in and press a kiss that makes his frustration fade away to his lips.
deep down, beneath his initial panic, sae’s glad. he’s glad because he knows that once the world gets over the excitement of finally knowing who you are, he can finally show you off the way he’s always wanted to. he can finally hold your hand walking down the street, kiss you in the stands after a goal, and take you to those fancy award dinners he’s always avoided. the thought of it all makes his heart race. some mistakes are worth making.
warnings. established relationship, fluff (like... a lot), sae pretending he is not painfully attentive ♡
word count. ~3.4k.
every time sae returns from spain, he brings you something small. it takes you far too long to understand that none of the gifts are as thoughtless as he pretends they are.
── .✦
The first gift Sae brings you from Spain is a bookmark.
It is thin and painted by hand, a trail of deep blue flowers curling around its edges while a narrow red ribbon hangs from the bottom. Pretty, certainly, but not particularly remarkable. The sort of thing displayed beside postcards and magnets in a quiet shop intended for tourists with a few coins left to spend before their flights.
Sae places it on the table between you without explanation.
You look down at it.
Then back at him.
“What’s this?”
“A bookmark.”
“I can see that.”
He lifts his glass, entirely unaffected by your stare. “Then why did you ask?”
You narrow your eyes, though the smile threatening your mouth ruins whatever irritation you were attempting to convey.
“I meant why are you giving it to me?”
Sae takes a slow drink before answering.
“You dog-ear your pages.”
There is enough judgment in his voice to make it sound like a personal failing.
You glance at the bookmark again.
“You bought this because you don’t like the way I mark my pages?”
“You’re ruining them.”
“They’re my books.”
“You’re still ruining them.”
You laugh, tracing one fingertip over the painted flowers. The blue is slightly uneven in places, small imperfections revealing where the brush must have paused against the wood.
“You could’ve just told me to buy one.”
“I have.”
“You complained. That’s different.”
“It clearly wasn’t effective.”
Sae leans back in his chair, conversation apparently finished.
You smile despite yourself and slip the bookmark carefully inside the novel waiting in your bag.
“Thank you.”
His eyes flick toward your hands for a moment.
Then away.
“Hm.”
You think little of it at the time.
Sae travels constantly. Training camps, matches, obligations you do not always understand and events he rarely seems interested in attending. Airports and hotel rooms have become ordinary pieces of his life, distances measured in fixtures rather than weeks.
The bookmark feels like an impulse purchase—a small object he spotted beside a register that happened to remind him of your terrible reading habits.
Then comes the second gift: a box of tea from Spain.
You are waiting in his apartment when he returns, curled into one corner of the couch with a blanket covering your legs. His flight landed late enough that you had almost fallen asleep twice, but the sound of his key turning in the lock has you sitting upright immediately.
Sae steps inside with one hand wrapped around the handle of his suitcase.
He looks tired.
Not obviously. Sae rarely permits anything to appear obvious. But there is a faint heaviness beneath his eyes, a stiffness in his shoulders that only becomes visible after you have spent long enough learning the difference between his indifference and his exhaustion.
“You’re still awake,” he says.
“You told me you’d be here at eleven.”
“It’s eleven thirty.”
“Exactly. You’re late.”
“The plane was delayed.”
You rise from the couch and move toward him, wrapping your arms around his waist before he can say anything else.
For a moment, Sae remains still.
Then his hand settles against the back of your head.
“You missed me,” he observes.
“No.”
“Right.”
His palm slides slowly down your hair, lingering before he steps away to remove his jacket.
You watch him open his suitcase.
“You’re unpacking now?”
“I need something.”
From between neatly folded clothes, he removes a small paper package and holds it toward you.
You blink.
“What is it?”
“Open it.”
Inside is a box of loose-leaf tea, the label printed in Spanish and decorated with tiny illustrations of oranges.
You lift the lid and breathe in. The scent is warm and sweet, citrus softened beneath something floral.
“It smells amazing.”
“You complained the tea here tastes like hot water.”
You look at him.
“That was months ago.”
Sae shrugs and begins closing his suitcase.
You remain kneeling beside it, the box held carefully in both hands.
“You remembered that?”
“You complained for twenty minutes.”
“It was terrible tea.”
“I remember.”
His tone remains flat, but there is the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.
The third gift is a pair of earrings.
Small golden stars, delicate enough to catch the light whenever you turn your head.
He leaves them beside the bathroom sink while you are getting ready, the box appearing between your makeup and his irritatingly limited collection of skincare as though it has always belonged there.
You find it while searching for your lip balm.
“Sae?”
He appears in the doorway, already dressed for dinner.
“What?”
You hold up the box.
His gaze drops toward it. “They’re earrings.”
“Thank you, I was struggling with that.”
“You asked.”
“I’m asking why they’re here.”
“They’re yours.”
You turn one of the tiny stars beneath the light.
They are exactly the sort you would choose for yourself—simple, warm-toned, understated enough for everyday wear. You cannot imagine Sae wandering willingly through a jewelry shop, much less studying displays long enough to decide which pair would suit you.
“How did you even pick these?”
Sae’s expression suggests the question is ridiculous.
“You showed me a pair like them.”
“When?”
He adjusts the cuff of his sleeve. “You were looking at them online.”
Your hand stills.
That had been weeks ago. You had been lying beside him, mindlessly scrolling, and paused on a photo for no more than a few seconds before deciding you did not need them.
You are not even certain you spoke aloud.
“You saw that?”
“You had the brightness all the way up.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It was annoying.”
You stare at him.
Sae stares back.
Then his eyes drop briefly toward the earrings.
“Are you wearing them or not?”
The impatience in his voice fails to conceal the way he waits for your answer.
You smile.
“Help me put them on?”
“No.”
“Sae.”
“You have hands.”
“Please?”
He exhales, long and quiet, as though you have asked him to perform something unbearably difficult.
Still, he approaches.
You turn your back to him and move your hair aside. Sae’s fingers brush the curve of your ear as he fastens the first earring, his touch unexpectedly careful. The cool metal settles against your skin.
“You’re very good at this,” you murmur.
“Be quiet.”
“You’ve done this before?”
“No.”
“Then how—”
“Hold still.”
You do, though mostly because his fingertips have moved beneath your hair, smoothing it back into place with an intimacy that leaves warmth spreading slowly through your chest.
When he finishes, you turn toward the mirror.
The stars catch the bathroom light.
You look at Sae’s reflection.
He is already watching you.
“They’re perfect,” you say softly.
“I know.”
Of course that is his answer.
The gifts continue.
By the fourth gift—a small bottle of perfume—you begin to wonder whether any of his choices are truly spontaneous.
The fifth is a ceramic dish painted with lemons, chosen because your rings are always scattered across his apartment.
The sixth gift is a wool scarf in the exact shade you once admired through a shop window.
The seventh is chocolate from a place you had mentioned seeing online.
The eighth gift is a pen, bought because yours ran out during one of your calls and you spent five minutes searching for another while Sae listened in silence from Madrid.
Each time, he offers the same simple explanation.
“You said you wanted one.”
“You said you liked it.”
“You needed it.”
As though these are reasons enough.
Perhaps, to Sae, they are.
It takes you longer than it should to notice the pattern.
You are cleaning your room one afternoon when you find the first bookmark tucked inside an old novel. The blue flowers are slightly faded now, the red ribbon fraying near the end from months of use.
You place it on the bed.
Then, almost without thinking, you begin gathering the others.
The earrings from the small dish on your dresser.
The scarf folded over your chair.
The perfume beside the mirror.
The tea, nearly finished, in the kitchen cupboard.
A collection of small, ordinary objects arranged across your blanket, each one connected to a moment you had long since forgotten.
A complaint made beneath your breath.
A screen paused for a few seconds.
A passing comment that had felt too insignificant to carry beyond the conversation in which it appeared.
Sae had carried every one of them across countries.
You are still sitting among the gifts when he arrives.
He stops in the doorway to your room.
His eyes move from you to the objects scattered across the bed.
“What are you doing?”
You lift the bookmark.
“You remembered all of these.”
Sae leans against the doorframe, expression unreadable. “They’re things I bought you.”
“No.” You look down at the gifts. “You remembered everything I said.”
A faint crease appears between his brows, as though he cannot understand why this surprises you.
“You talk a lot.”
You laugh once, though the sound comes out softer than intended.
“I don’t talk that much.”
“You do.”
“And you listen?”
Sae’s gaze settles on your face.
For a moment, the room becomes very still.
He could tease you. He could look away, offer some dismissive answer and leave you to interpret everything yourself. That is what you expect from him—the careful avoidance he uses whenever a conversation threatens to become too openly sentimental.
Instead, Sae pushes away from the doorway and walks toward you.
He stops between your knees.
“You’re my partner,” he says simply.
Your fingers tighten around the bookmark.
“So?”
“So I listen.”
The answer is delivered with such calm certainty that your chest aches.
Sae looks down at the collection on the bed.
“You didn’t need to take everything out.”
“I was having a moment.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“You brought me souvenirs from another country because I complained about tea.”
“It was bad tea.”
Your laugh breaks free before you can stop it.
Sae’s hand settles against your cheek, his thumb moving once beneath your eye. His expression remains composed, but there is something gentler behind it now, something he does not seem particularly interested in hiding.
“You really don’t think this is romantic?” you ask.
“No.”
“You remembered earrings I looked at for five seconds.”
“They suited you.”
“And the scarf?”
“You were cold.”
“The perfume?”
“You liked it.”
You smile up at him.
Sae’s eyes narrow slightly, already suspicious of the expression.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“Looking at me like I said something impressive.”
“You did.”
“I bought you things.”
“You noticed me.”
The words quiet him.
His hand remains against your face.
There it is, you think—the reason the gifts never felt grand to him. Sae does not understand attention as an extraordinary act. He watches you because you are there. He remembers because your words matter to him. The little details you dismiss as meaningless settle somewhere inside him and remain there until he finds them again in shops, airports, and unfamiliar streets thousands of miles away.
To him, it is not romance.
It is simply loving you.
You turn your face and kiss the center of his palm.
Sae becomes very still.
“Thank you,” you whisper.
He studies you for another second before bending down. His lips brush your forehead first, then the corner of your mouth.
“You’re welcome, mi amor.”
Your smile widens.
He notices immediately.
“Don’t start.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were going to.”
You wrap your arms around his waist and pull him closer, your cheek resting against his stomach.
Sae sighs, but his fingers slide into your hair, gently combing through the strands.
After a quiet moment, his gaze shifts toward the gifts spread across the bed.
“You’re missing one.”
You lift your head.
“What?”
He reaches into the inner pocket of his coat and removes a small velvet box.
Your arms slowly loosen from around his waist.
“Sae.”
“What?”
You stare at the box resting in his palm. It is too small to contain anything harmless, and Sae’s complete lack of concern only makes your heart beat harder.
“You just got here.”
“And?”
“You already bought me something else?”
Instead of answering, he holds it toward you.
You take the box carefully, suddenly aware of how warm your hands have become. Sae watches in silence as you lift the lid.
Inside is a ring.
The ninth gift—and somehow, the one that makes every other object spread across your bed feel like a trail leading to this moment.
It is delicate, made of thin gold with a tiny teal stone set into the center—not extravagant, but elegant in that quiet, understated way Sae seems to understand suits you better than anything overly ornate. The stone catches the light when you tilt the box, flashing the same deep shade as his eyes.
For a moment, you can only stare.
“Sae…”
“You said you liked it.”
Your gaze snaps toward him. “When?”
“A few months ago.”
You search your memory until a blurred afternoon begins to return: the two of you walking past a jewelry shop, your steps slowing briefly in front of the window. You had pointed toward one of the rings inside and said it was beautiful before continuing down the street.
You had not thought about it again.
Apparently, Sae had.
“I didn’t even say I wanted it.”
“You kept looking at it.”
“For maybe ten seconds.”
“Long enough.”
The answer comes so easily that your chest aches all over again.
You remove the ring from its cushion, but before you can put it on, Sae takes it gently from your fingers.
“Give me your left hand.”
You stare at him.
Sae holds the ring between two fingers, his expression as composed as ever, as though he has not just taken the entire evening and tilted it quietly off its axis.
“Sae.”
His eyebrow lifts.
“Are you going to make this difficult?”
“You’re holding a ring and asking for my left hand.” Your voice comes out thinner than you intended. “I think I’m allowed to have a moment.”
“You’ve been having one for the past five minutes.”
Your mouth falls open, but the reply never comes.
Because he said left hand.
Not your right. Not whichever one happened to be closest.
Your left.
The realization settles slowly, warmth spreading through your chest until you can hear your own heartbeat beneath the silence of the room.
You look down at the ring again, at the delicate gold band and the small teal stone catching the light between his fingers.
Then back at him.
“Sae,” you say carefully, “is this a proposal?”
He watches you for a moment.
“Yes.”
The single word steals the air from your lungs.
There is no teasing in his expression now, no trace of the faint amusement he usually wears whenever he manages to fluster you. His gaze remains steady on yours, quiet and certain in a way that makes the small velvet box in your hands suddenly feel much heavier.
“You’re proposing to me?”
“I just said I was.”
“That isn’t...” You stop, pressing your lips together as a nervous laugh threatens to escape. “You can’t just hand me a ring and expect me to understand what’s happening.”
“I asked for your hand.”
“That is not the same thing as asking me to marry you!”
Sae exhales softly through his nose. For the first time, something almost uncertain passes beneath his composure—not hesitation, exactly, but the realization that perhaps this is one moment he cannot communicate through implication alone.
He lowers the ring slightly.
Then he steps closer.
“You want a speech?”
“I want to know why.”
His eyes narrow just a little. “You don’t know?”
“I want to hear you say it.”
Of course you do.
Sae studies your face, and for one terrible second, you think he might refuse simply because you asked. Then his free hand rises to your cheek, his thumb resting just beneath your eye.
“I remember the things you say because they matter to me,” he begins. His voice is calm, stripped of any theatrical tenderness, but every word lands with deliberate weight. “I bring you things because I see them and think of you. I come back and expect you to be here. When you aren’t, the apartment feels wrong.”
Your breath catches.
Sae’s gaze does not leave yours.
"I don’t want you fitting into my life only when our schedules allow it.” His thumb moves once across your cheek. “I want you in all of it—when I leave, when I come back, wherever I end up playing.
The sting behind your eyes grows warmer.
Sae notices, naturally, but this time he does not interrupt.
“I bought the ring because you liked it,” he continues. “I measured one of yours because I intended to put it on you. And I’m asking because I want you to marry me.”
There it is.
Not wrapped in poetry. Not softened by promises too grand to trust.
Just Sae, offering you the truth as plainly as he understands it.
His fingers shift beneath your chin.
“So,” he says, voice quieter now, “marry me, mi amor.”
Your vision blurs.
Sae’s expression tightens immediately.
“Don’t cry before you answer.”
A laugh slips through the tears gathering in your eyes.
“You’re still bossing me around during your own proposal.”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“I’m not avoiding it.”
“You haven’t answered.”
You reach for the front of his shirt, curling your fingers into the fabric as though you need something solid to steady yourself.
“Yes.”
Sae becomes completely still.
The smallest pause follows—barely there, but long enough for you to see the answer reach him beneath all that carefully maintained composure.
You smile through the warmth in your eyes.
“Yes, Sae. I’ll marry you.”
His shoulders loosen.
Only slightly.
But you see it.
Of course you do.
Sae takes your left hand, his touch unexpectedly careful as he slides the ring onto your finger. It settles perfectly at the base.
Of course it does.
You look down at it, watching the teal stone catch the light.
Then you look back at him.
“How did you know my size?”
“You leave your jewelry everywhere.”
“You measured one of my rings?”
“You make it sound more complicated than it was.”
“You secretly measured one of my rings, remembered something I looked at months ago, found it again, brought it home from Spain, and planned an entire proposal without telling me.”
“Yes.”
“And you still don’t think you’re romantic?”
“No.”
You laugh softly, though another tear escapes before you can stop it.
Sae brushes it away with his thumb.
“Don’t cry over a ring.”
“I’m not crying over the ring.”
“Then what?”
“You.”
That silences him.
You pull him closer by his shirt and kiss him before he can retreat behind another dry reply. His hand slides into your hair, holding you there as his mouth softens against yours.
The kiss is slow, warm with all the things Sae rarely says aloud.
When you finally part, your forehead remains pressed to his.
“You could have started with marry me,” you whisper.
“You would’ve interrupted.”
“I interrupted anyway.”
“I know.”
His eyes lower to the ring now resting on your hand. His thumb brushes lightly over the gold band, tracing the place where it circles your finger.
Then he brings your hand to his mouth and presses a kiss against your knuckles.
“You like it?”
You stare at him.
“You proposed to me, and you’re asking whether I like the ring?”
“You said you did.”
Months ago.
For no more than a few seconds.
You shake your head, smiling helplessly.
“I love it.”
Sae’s eyes lift to yours.
“The ring?”
“You.”
The faintest smile touches his mouth.
“Good.”
Then he kisses you again.
The ninth gift remains on your finger, distinct from every small object spread across the bed.
The others were things Sae carried home because he remembered what you liked, what you needed, and every passing thought you never expected him to keep.
But the ring is not merely something he has brought home to you.
It is his quiet way of asking you to make a home with him.
a/n: inspired by this tik tok video i saw LMAO (i’ll attach it at the bottom of this post)
also this is so off topic, but i just watched the first 5 episodes of sparks of tomorrow on netflix since there’s only that much out rn and that anime has me CTFUUU WHAT IS YOSUKE’S PROBLEM 😭😭😭
synopsis: your boyfriend with kids.
ft. hugo vivian, itoshi sae
𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐨 ˖˚⊹ ꣑ৎ
ac goes to SirNagic04 on X
the event had been advertised as "meet france's rising football star!" which sounded incredibly glamorous until you actually got there and realized it was just hugo sitting cross-legged on a colorful kindergarten rug while six children argued over who got to bonk him with a foam football first.
a little girl smacked the ball directly into his forehead.
thunk.
he blinked once.
"again!" she cheered.
"okay."
she did it again.
the volunteer beside you gasped. you gasped. hugo simply picked the ball up and handed it back like this was an average monday for him.
with each minute that went by, it got worse. one kid climbed onto his shoulders without asking. another decided his face looked "too empty" and started decorating it with washable markers.
"hmm..." the little boy hummed seriously. "you need a mustache."
"okay."
"and whiskers."
"okay."
"and sparkles!"
"... okay."
you nearly choked on your own laughter.
"vivi," you called, barely containing yourself, "are you just... letting this happen?"
he looked over with little pink stars scattered across his cheeks and what appeared to be a baguette drawn on his forehead.
"they're having fun."
"... that's your defense?"
he shrugged. "they're five."
later, a tiny girl had somehow braided three colorful ribbons into his dark red hair. another had claimed one of his massive hands and was comparing it to hers with the most serious expression imaginable.
"mine's bigger."
"no fair!"
"you'll get there."
she accepted that answer immediately.
you watched him patiently tie untied shoelaces because little fingers couldn't quite manage bunny loops yet. he listened with complete seriousness as one boy explained that dinosaurs would've been better at soccer than france's national team.
when another child burst into tears because her drawing "looked ugly," hugo silently took the crayon from her, drew the world's most crooked little flower beside it, and said, "mine's uglier." she giggled. crisis over.
your heart did something incredibly embarrassing. this wasn't the hugo everyone else knew. not the man who could play under no pressure in a stadium filled with 80,000 people or the man who answered interviews with one sentence if reporters were lucky.
here, surrounded by tiny humans using him as jungle gym equipment, he just... existed, in a very unbothered way.
a little boy tugged your sleeve. "miss?"
"yeah?"
"is he always this quiet?"
you looked at hugo just as another foam ball smacked him square in the face. "um… pretty much."
"cool."
"cool?"
"yeah! he's like a really big capybara."
you laughed so hard you had to crouch down. that was honestly a fair assessment.
later, as everyone began cleaning up, hugo finally wandered over to you with marker still all over his face.
"what?"
"nothing."
"you're smiling."
"am i not allowed to?"
he narrowed his eyes slightly. "what are you thinking about?”
you reached up and brushed some glitter off his cheek. "i'm just wondering."
"about what?"
you smiled to yourself. "what you'd be like as a dad."
for the first time all afternoon, the great, unreadable vivian hugo actually paused. then he tilted his head, chuckled softly, and blurted out: "our kids would probably draw on my face, too."
your mouth parted in surprise before you laughed. "and you'd let them."
"yeah." another tiny shrug. "it's just marker."
your heart absolutely betrayed you. that tiny, completely casual answer painted a picture so vivid you could almost see it – little shoes by the front door. crayon drawings on the fridge. a sleepy baby with his hair color asleep on his chest while he watched game film.
and hugo, sitting there with another ridiculous mustache scribbled across his face… acting like it was the most normal thing in the world.
oh, you’re so screwed.
𝐬𝐚𝐞 ˖˚⊹ ꣑ৎ
ac goes to fz7_13 on X
the park had been peaceful for exactly three minutes. the moment had been ruined when sae noticed the elementary school boys playing soccer.
you noticed the look on his face. "don't."
he glanced at you. "don't what?"
"whatever you're about to do."
"wow. you're assuming a lot."
five seconds later, he had ended up standing in the middle of their scrimmage with his hands in his pockets while six sweaty little boys stared up at him with sparkling eyes.
"are you really sae itoshi?!"
"yeah."
"woaaah!"
"can you watch us play?"
"... sure."
you smiled. oh? he's being ni–
"number seven," sae interrupted after exactly 20 seconds in.
the tiny boy froze. "m-me?"
"yeah."
"what?"
"you're hiding. you keep standing behind your teammate because you're scared to ask for the ball."
the little boy's jaw dropped. "i-i'm not scared."
"you are."
"... am not."
sae tilted his head. "then why haven't you touched the ball in the last two minutes?"
the other kids slowly turned toward number seven.
"... he's got a point."
number seven looked like he had just witnessed the collapse of civilization. you buried your face in your hands. oh my god.
the match resumed. 30 seconds later–
"blue shirt."
another child looked up.
"your first touch is too heavy. the ball isn't trying to escape. so stop kicking it like it owes you money."
the other boys burst into laughter.
"HE DOES KICK LIKE THAT!"
"I TOLD YOU!"
blue shirt looked absolutely devastated.
you quietly walked over to sae. "amor."
"what?"
"they're like eight."
"yeah? they'll improve faster if someone tells them."
"... gently though. don’t you think?"
he blinked. "i am being gentle."
you stared at him. he stared back. he genuinely believed that.
one kid finally puffed his chest out and pointed. "then YOU do it!"
"okay."
sae slipped into the game without another word. he didn't sprint or even look particularly interested. he simply took one touch… another… nutmegged one kid so cleanly the poor boy actually turned around looking for the ball… threaded a pass between four tiny defenders… and flicked it perfectly into the makeshift goal.
"that's how."
there was complete silence before one little boy whispered with tears in his eyes: "i think i'm retiring..."
you had to physically turn away so they wouldn't see you laughing, even though your heart did break for them, too. but then… instead of walking off, sae picked the ball back up. "again."
the kids blinked. "what?"
"try again." he tossed the ball to number seven. "this time, ask for it."
the little boy hesitated. "... pass!" louder. "PASS!" the ball came to him. he actually trapped it. his face lit up like he'd just won the world cup. "i did it!"
"yeah."
"did you see?!"
"obviously."
there it was. so subtle you almost missed it. sae wasn't being mean just to be mean – he only refused to lie to them. if they messed up, he'd tell them. if they improved, he'd make them prove it. it was... strangely effective.
as the kids happily chased the ball again, you leaned closer. "is this why rin doesn't answer your calls?"
"mm, probably."
he said it with such complete indifference that you nearly laughed yourself into the grass. "you're unbelievable."
"he got better, didn't he?"
one of the boys suddenly shouted across the field: "MR. SAE! I ASKED FOR THE BALL!"
sae gave him a single nod. "good."
the child celebrated like he'd just received a knighthood.
you watched the scene unfold – the tiny boys running around with renewed determination, your boyfriend standing there with his usual unreadable expression, somehow crushing their egos and rebuilding them in the span of 10 minutes.
you sighed. "our future son is going to come crying to me after practice, isn't he?"
without missing a beat, sae answered, "only once."
"because you'll comfort him?"
"because he won't make the same mistake twice."
you now understood at least 80% of the itoshi brothers' childhood.
it was just too much—anniversarries, gifts, physical affection, other sappy romantic stuff. all of that required too much effort. all of that was just simply a hassle to him and nothing more.
that was his mindset until you came around.
it was like thanos snapped his fingers and nagi's perspective towards romance instantly changed.
all of a sudden, anniversaries didn't seem so troublesome when they meant getting to spend the entire day with you.
gifts weren't a hassle when he got to watch your face light up over something he'd picked out specifically for you.
even physical affection, something he used to find especially bothersome, became something he always craved from you.
one night, nagi was sprawled across the couch beside you, his head resting comfortably in your lap while you absentmindedly played with his hair.
"you're really heavy," you mumbled.
"mm."
"you should move."
"t'much effort."
you rolled your eyes but didn't actually push him away. your fingers continued combing through his white hair, occasionally scratching lightly against his scalp.
nagi's eyes fluttered shut. unconciously, he let out a soft sigh.
this was nice—way too nice for a lazy bum like him.
nagi never understood why people went through all the trouble of dating someone. now he understood. having someone like you with him made doing absolutely nothing feel like the best thing and the most productive thing in the world.
nagi opened one eye and looked up at you.
"hey."
"hm? what's up, sei?" you asked curiously, tilting your head slightly.
"love you," nagi mumbled and immediately closed his eye from shyness despite knowing you could see him blushing.
"aw you're so adorable seishi," you cooed. "i love you too!"
you began pinching his cheeks, which did slightly hurt, but he would happily accept that hassle.
sae itoshi who can’t sleep without a sleeping mask. no matter how pitch-black it is, or how calming the atmosphere is, he cannot sleep without something stuck onto his eyes.
and how cliché, the day before one of his most important games, it’s already well past his usual bedtime that he realised he forgot his sleeping mask on the airplane. he thought about calling his manager, no— it’s childish to ask for a sleeping mask. he thought about driving out to a store, no— it’ll take too long, he won’t get enough sleep when he’s back at the hotel.
sae groaned in frustration, cursing under his breath before you called out to him.
“baby? what’s wrong?” you stepped behind him, both hands landing on his shoulders before giving them a light squeeze.
he cleared his throat, though not looking at you, eyes still stuck on his bag that certainly did not contain his sleeping mask in.
“forgot my sleeping mask on the plane. i won’t- ahem, i can’t sleep without it.” he zipped up his bag, leaning his body onto yours as one of your hands trailed up to his head, caressing it softly before you pressed a kiss onto it. “i have an idea.” you mumbled against his head, to which he cocks his head to the side to show interest.
and thats how you both landed in this position. cuddling while facing each other, but this time sae was the little spoon. your arms would wrap around him protectively, just like how he’d do with you. his face was buried into your chest, providing the darkness and the physical contact to his eyes warmly while both of his arms wrapped around your waist. to this day, he still claims that it was purely for “efficiency.” but he’d rather die then tell anyone that it was the best sleep he’d ever had in his life.
ITOSHI SAE is already halfway out the door when you speak.
“Sae.”
He pauses. Just barely. One foot still in his shoes, gym bag slung over his shoulder, expression calm and focused like always. “You’re forgetting something.”
He turns slowly, brows knitting together—not annoyed, just… thinking. You can see the gears turning. His eyes flick to your face, then your lips, then back to your eyes.
“…Ah.”
He walks back toward you with that unhurried confidence that makes your heart stupid. Stops right in front of you. Close enough that you can smell his cologne—clean, faint, familiar.
“You’re right,” he says quietly.
Before you can say anything, he cups your face with both hands and kisses you.
It’s not rushed. Not messy. Just warm and certain and Sae. His lips linger for a second longer than necessary, like he’s memorizing you before training steals him away for hours.
When he pulls back, his thumb brushes your cheek. “I won’t forget next time,” he murmurs.
You blink. “…Sae.” “Yes?” “…Your water bottle.”
Silence. His eyes drift past you, Down... To the counter.... Where his water bottle sits. Untouched. Mocking him.
A bEeat, Then another. His ears turn the faintest shade of red. “…I see.”
You cross your arms, trying—and failing—not to smile. “You were really about to leave without it.”
He exhales through his nose. “You could’ve clarified sooner.” “Oh, I was going to,” you grin. “But you looked so confident.”
He grabs the bottle, shoves it into his bag with a little more force than necessary. “You’re enjoying this.” “Immensely.”
He pauses at the door again, then glances back at you. That familiar, unreadabsle look… softened just a bit.
“Still,” he says, voice low, “the kiss wasn’t unnecessary.” Your heart stutters. “…Wasn’t saying it was.”
A small smile tugs at his lips—barely there, but real. He steps back once more, leans down, and presses a quick kiss to your forehead.
“Don’t forget me either,” he says. Then he leaves—finally.
You look at the closed door, hand over your face, absolutely doomed.
“…I was literally just talking about hydration.”
⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪
— ⋆𐙚 aika's letter !! HAI GUYS ANOTHER POST YAY this was a draft from reeeeeeeeally long ago and I just proof read it and changed the layout, I hope you guys are doing well!! TYSM FOR READING AND HAVE NICE DAYYYY
Synopsis : It’s funny how the person they once loved, fianlly moved on without them.
Characters : Sae Itoshi , Rin Itoshi , Isagi Yoichi , Reo Mikage , Oliver Aiku.
Part Two : Noa Noel , Chris Prince , Marc Snuffy, Micheal Kaiser, Julian Loki , Vivian Hugo.
Notes : Fem reader, angst, wrote this with pure boredom, failed relationship or whatever, not fully proofread.
･ ༝ ･ Sae Itoshi
Being with Sae Itoshi was nice…
Well, in the beginning.
Sae Itoshi was a man of few words, never particularly gifted when it came to expressing what was in his heart, but he loved you.
You never doubted that—not once.
Sae would always be there for you to soothe you with a kiss on the forehead whenever you were anxious or scared.
Whenever he was off, he’ll wake up before the sunrise just to make you breakfast before you opened your eyes and give you a kiss on the tip of your nose and sit beside you while you eat and he’ll look over his opponets anayltics for the next match.
And when the you two were together in the public—he wasn’t affectionate and not a big fan of pda—but he’ll silently reach for your hand and tighten his grip.
If you carried something heavy, he’d take it.
Your feet are aching from walking? No worries he’ll carry you. If that’s what you wanted.
If you stumbled, he’d catch you before you even trip.
Whenever you stayed at his apartment, he would unconsciously—instictively—pull you into his lap while the two of you watched television, with one lf his arm arm wrapped securely around your waist as though your body naturally belonged there, and he’ll nuzzle at the crook or your nape or your back. You used to laugh every time it happened.
“You know…” you’d tease, absentmindedly tracing circles on his wrist, “…you’re a lot clingier than you pretend to be.”
“…Am I?” He looked up at you from behide and his bangs were disheveled.
“You haven’t let go of me for forty minutes.” You playfully hummed,
“…Should I let go then?” Sae said, you smiled and comforatbly sunk on his lap
“No not at all Mr.Itsohi” you looked back and poke his cheek and he silently took your finger off his cheek and sighed.
But without another word, he’d tighten his arm around you, resting his chin against your shoulder.
“Good, because didn’t want to.”
And went back from nuzzling his face onto you.
And that was how things went in your relationship it was comfortable and every time you two didn’t talk at all it never felt lonely or awkward.
Every night, his arm would draped securely around your waist, holding you with a desperate, heavy tightness, and never wanting to let you go.
You’ll always whisper on his hear how clingy he is and how’d he always embrace you whenever you two were taking a nap or going to sleep. It felt, peaceful, and felt safe being embraced by someone that you loved.
“You’re so pretty Sae,” you chimed in gently tracing his jaw and looking, then put your forehead against his then kiss the tip of his nose.”
Even when he had to wake up in the freezing dawn for practice, he would always stay and linger, staring down at your sleeping face, tracing your cheek before leaving a final, quiet press of his lips on your skin and a soft mumbled whisper of an “I love you.”
On lazy mornings, when the golden sunlight spilled through the curtains, painting fractured patterns across his bedroom floor.
While your bare body was buried beneath the linen blanket, you’ll feel his fingertips lazily tracing invisible lines along your back and your arm while silently pressing kisses.
While you were half-asleep, you feel his lips gently reaching your forehead.
“…Wake up.”
“Mmm…”you’d mumble, pulling the blanket higher.
“You’ve been saying five more minutes for twenty.”His voice was a low, gravelly rasp from last night.
“…Maybe I need another twenty….” You gently brushed him off. But the smallest smile—barely noticeable—would tug at the corner of his lips.
“You’re impossible.” While he tried to pull your body to face him, now both of you were staring at each-other.
“And yet…” you murmured, flicking his forehead with a grin, “…you still love me.”
He looked at you and said “I do.”
You giggled and flicked his forehead. He wince slightly, eyes narrowing, before leaning down to catch your lips again, pulling you into the warmth of another slow morning.
That was enough. You had him, and he had you.
You had met his family; his family was supportive and happy sae was alright. But then you had to meet his younger brother, Rin.
That…could’ve gone better.
The younger Itoshi just stared at you for several seconds before looking toward his brother.
“Why?” He questioned
You blinked while nervously chuckling,
“Why what?”
“Why are you dating him?” Rin said while pointing at sae. Sae just sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Ignore him.”
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
Despite Rin’s hostility toward Sae, he slowly grew used to seeing you around. He’d never admit it outright, but he respected you. Rin
kept on contact with you. It was kinda obvious they cared for each-other—at-least—that’s what you think, but they grew distant and didn’t know each other anymor
Your own parents adored Sae. Your mother once watched him silently washing dishes after dinner before leaning over to whisper,
“You know…the guy you brought,” your mother trailed while she was busy cleaning the table while you were also helping you mom “ he looks intimidating…” she continued but smiled softly “…But he hasn’t stopped checking to make sure you’re okay all evening.”
“That’s a good catch,” while she jokingly bump her hips making you feel embarrassed by your mom’s teasing which just made her laugh loudly joking about how you always said that you won’t find a guy that loves you.
Then you looked over to find Sae already glancing in your direction, then you felt completely embarrassed that he heard that, which just made your mom tease you even more and drag Sae into it.
Marriage became less of a question and more of an inevitability the topic was always brought up.
It happened on an ordinary night while the two of you were lying together on the bed.
“You think we’d survive marriage?” you asked absentmindedly, tracing the veins on the back of his hand.
“We already live together.”Sae looked at your joined fingers, his grip tightening before he brought your knuckles to his lips.
“That’s not an answer.”You murmured, looking up into his eyes. And his gaze locked onto yours.
Then he lifted your hand, pressing a slow kiss against your knuckles.
“…We’ll get married.”
“…Promise?”
“I promise.”
There wasn’t a hint of hesitation, you believed every word.
And you believed him. You really did.
Looking back… Neither of you could remember when things started changing.
There wasn’t another person in the relationship, he didn’t betray you and there was no massive argument at all that ruined things—maybe.
It happened so slowly that neither of you realized your relationship was falling apart
The thing is football had always been Sae’s world.
But somewhere along the way… It also stopped making him happy…I mean you’ve been with him and always known he struggled but it was never that bad.
At first, the changes were so small you barely noticed them.
But it began with smiling less towards you and you noticed it whenever you’d see him watch the tv watching about people talk about him or the new match.
Whenver he was brought up and commented on he was silent, on social media there were many rude comments that were mocking sae with every miss and failed assist and him not living up to his name.
He’d apologize for canceling date nights because he was exhausted, promising to make it up to you “next week.”
Next week never came.
You started waking up in the middle of the night to find his side of the bed empty. While the balcony door would be cracked open.
Sae stood outside in the freezing air, hands shoved into his pockets, staring blankly at the city skyline.
“Hi, Can’t sleep?”
“…No.” he said while leaning down the cold metal railing.
“You should come back inside, come on it is bad for you sae to be out here so cold,” you murmured.
“…In a minute.” Sometimes that minute lasted until sunrise. Other nights he’d leave the apartment entirely. You’d wake at two in the morning to find a text.
Gone for a run, love you.
He’d return hours later drenched in sweat, breathing hard, claiming he just needed to clear his head. When you asked what was bothering him…
“…Nothing.”
Everything became nothing or fine.
You hated that word, “fine”.
Sae had a habit of just saying, “I’m fine.”
Training was fine.
Practice was fine.
The interviews were fine.
The pressure was fine.
The game was fine.
Our relationship is fine.
He was fine.
You hated it because you could see he wasn’t “fine” and damn it , you didn’t know what to do or say; whenever you wanted to say something to talk to him—he would brush you off and move along.
Dark circles settled permanently beneath his eyes, he started forgetting meals unless you reminded him.
Even when he did he would badely eat it to the point, that you’ll come home to find breakfast untouched or the dinner you was left exactly where you’d left it.
“…Did you eat today?”
“…I forgot.”
“You forgot?”
“I wasn’t hungry.”
You stared at him and nodded along while y you reheated his food anyway.
“…Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“I know.” He muttered while he was hunched down on the seat.
“…Then why do you keep saying it to me sae?”
Silence. That’s because he genuinely didn’t know, why.
The truth was…He wasn’t ignoring you because he stopped loving you.
He was just exhausted and drowning into deep, And inside his exhausted mind, he had convinced himself that if he let you see how bad things had become… You’d only worry.
So he never talked to you about it and avoided every conversation, Unfortunately…he didn’t realize that shutting you was making things worse—but what could a person think when they were in that situation—but you still stayed right there next to him and soothe him or hug him whenever he couldnt sleep or when he cried.
He hated treating you like this,
It didn’t help that every disagreement between the two of you ended the exact same way.
Distance, he’ll distance from you and disappear for a while not talking to you.
It wasn’t that Sae wanted to hurt you—he didn’t know what else to do.
Whenever something upset him—whether it was the pressure of another match, the suffocating expectations placed on his shoulders, or the constant feeling that he had to be perfect—he would disappear into himself.
It was a habit that he convinced himself that isolation was the way for him, to keep his problems locked away, so that no one else would have to carry them or know.
Time had always solved everything before, hadn’t it? So he continued doing what he had always done.
He’d leave the apartment for hours without saying where he was going, returning long after midnight with sweat clinging to his skin from another punishing run.
Sometimes he wasn’t running at all.
He simply wandered the empty streets until dawn because the thought going home and you seeing him in this state would make you feel shit so he’ll leave and crash at some other place.
Other nights, he’d lock himself inside the bathroom, letting the shower run until the hot water turned cold, sitting against the tiled wall with his head buried in his hands.
The rushing water drowned out everything—his thoughts, the criticism, the expectations, the guilt.
It was easier than talking, it was always easier than talking.
Lastly it was better than letting you know.
As the months passed, he barely slept anymore.
You’d wake up at three in the morning, reaching toward the empty side of the bed only to find cold sheets waiting for you.
The balcony door would be cracked open, and there he’d be, standing outside beneath the pale glow of the city lights, staring into nothing
“…Sae?”
“…Couldn’t sleep.”
“Again? You’ve been barely asleep all week.”
“I’ll sleep tomorrow.”
Even on his days off, he couldn’t sit still. If he wasn’t training, he was running. If he wasn’t running, he was watching match footage.
If he wasn’t watching footage, he was staring blankly at the television without actually seeing what was on the screen.
Then the both of you started to argue more and more, it was…rare for the two of you to ever fight almost every week even over the little things.
“I’m trying to tell you how I feel, Sae.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t,” you said, your voice cracking as you stared at his unreadable face.
“I don’t need you to fix it.” Sae replied He never knew what to say after that.
Whenever his team lost, he came home long after dark. You would hear the heavy thud of the front door. He dropped his kit bag, kicked off his shoes, and maintained that absolute suffocating silence.
He’ll walk straight past the living room and straight past you without a glance or a greeting.
He went straight to the bathroom. And the shower ran for nearly an hour. The first few times, you knocked gently on the foggy glass.
“...Sae? You okay?”
“...I just need time.”
One evening, after a brutal loss, he came home looking entirely drained. You had dinner waiting on the table. It had already gone completely cold.
“You’re late,” you said softly, trying to offer a fragile smile. “I saw the match today. I’m sorry about the loss.”
“I know.” He replied while not looking at you.
“Sorry I couldn’t attend, I had a meeting today,” you looked at him waiting for a response but it was complete silence,
“ I made dinner. Would you like to eat?”
He ignored the question entirely and just walked past you then into the bathroom for another hour-long shower.
You sat alone at the table, aimlessly moving the cold food around your plate as a heavy suffocation settled in your chest.
When the bathroom door finally opened, you stood up.
“Can we talk Sae?”
“I’m tired.” He kept walking toward the bedroom.
“I know you’re tired, Sae, but—”
“I said I don’t want to talk.”
Something inside you finally snapped. The years of neglect, the quiet rejection, and the loneliness of being in a relationship by yourself all crumbled.
“When do you ever want to talk. Sae stopped in his tracks, his shoulders tensing. “...What?”
“You come home, shut yourself away, and expect me to sit here and guess what is going on in your headl
“I don’t expect anything from you.” Sae said,
“Then what am I here for, Sae?”
Silence.
“I am so exhausted from dealing with you when you sulk and push me away,” your voice began to tremble violently. “God damn it, Sae... you treat me like a burden whenever you are like this. Every single time I’m telling you I’m right here ... you disappear.”
Sae turned around. His expression hardened.“But I never asked you to do any of that.”
The room went completely still. The air left your lungs. “...What?”
“I never asked you to carry my weight,” Sae said. His voice was entirely devoid of emotion,“I never told you I wanted you to reach out. You’re acting mediocre right now, trying to force your way in when I clearly told you I don’t need you. Some things I have to deal with alone. If you can't handle that, that's your problem. So just leave me alone.”
A bitter, breathless laugh escaped your lips. “...Do you even hear yourself right now?”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“The truth?” You scoffed while tears finally spilled over your eyelashes “The truth is that I’ve been begging you to let me into your life, and somehow, you’ve made me feel like I’m the one asking for too much.”
Sae scoffed softly, turning his head away. “You’re being emotional”
The moment those words left his mouth, a flicker of regret crossed his eyes. He recognized the shift instantly.Your expression did not twist into anger or deep sadness.
Instead, your face went completely hollow with a look of total defeat. You wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand and forced a small smile.
“...That’s it,” you whispered, nodding to yourself. “I finally get it.”
“You don’t.”
“No,” you let out a trembling breath. “I do.” You walked into the bedroom.
Sae stood in the hallway, his jaw clenched, convincing himself you just needed space. But a few minutes later, you emerged carrying a single, heavy suitcase.
Sae’s composure finally shattered. He took a step forward. “...What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving.”
“...Don’t…please.”
It was the very first time he had ever used that tone with you. It was a plea. You looked at him, tears quietly tracking down your face. Your voice was dead and devoid of the warmth he had taken for granted. “It’s best this way, right? This is what you always do anyway. You always leave and it’s my turn—maybe, it’s for the better Sae.”
You walked to the front door and gripped the handle. You looked back one last time at the apartment, at the man who had promised to marry you under the covers.
“Goodbye, Sae.”
The door clicked shut behind you. Sae stood frozen in the center of the room for hours.
The apartment had never felt so vast. In the weeks that followed, it was obvious that you were gone.
You left behind things you did not need, like the expensive jewelry he bought you for anniversaries, all left neatly on the dresser.
He tried to store them away in boxes, but it did not help at all, he could not bring himself to hide or throw it away even your toothbrush from the bathroom sink.
Every night, the side of the bed next to him was freezing cold, and empty.
When he cane home there was nobody waiting for him, when he woke up he had no one to kiss and say “I love you.” He regretted it…and wanted to change.
Four years had passed.
His career flourished even more and was finally better—that’s what he thinks.
One spring afternoon, he absentmindedly scrolled through social media taking a break after another training session.
It was a mind-numbing habit he rarely indulged in, but he felt like he should check something, and then his thumb suddenly froze on the screen.
A familiar face appeared. It was yours.
You were dressed in a stunning, flowing white gown. And was standing beside a man he had never seen before.
The man's arm was wrapped securely around your waist. And your smile was radiant and stretched all the way to your eyes.
It was a genuine happiness he had not seen on your face in the final moments you spent together.
The caption beneath the photograph was: Congratulations to us.
Sae stared at the screen. His chest tightened‘Oh,’ he thought, his chest aching with a dull, hollow thud. ‘You look really pretty.’
And for the first time entirely outside of his control, a single, tear escaped his eye.
And splattered against the glass of his phone screen, blurring your happy smile.
･ ༝ ･ Rin Itoshi
You had known Rin Itoshi since the two of you were children, long before the sport of football had ever been introduced to his life.
Your mother was close friends with Mrs. Itoshi, and to their immense surprise, when both women found themselves pregnant at the exact same time, made them
incredibly enthusiastic to ensure their children grew up as best friends.
That was how the two of you were brought into each other's lives. Because you were born first, you were a tad bit older than Rin, and your absolute earliest memories of him were almost entirely ridiculous.
You distinctly remembered a tiny, toddler-aged Rin sitting flat on the living room floor of the Itoshi residence, happily chewing on one of his plastic toy blocks like a mid-day snack, while he kept of saying “rawr” acting like Godzilla.
Sae was sitting right beside him on the carpet, keeping a sharp watch to make sure his baby brother didn't accidentally choke on it.
You had been dragged over to the house entirely against your will, and your mother was forcing you to stay and play with the Itoshi brothers rather than allowing you to cling to her skirt like you wanted to.
You remembered walking over to the small boy, staring down at him with wide, horrified eyes before completely bursting into tears.
You were absolutely convinced he was a terrible, scary monster because he just kept aggressively chewing on the plastic blocks, and saying “rawr” so many times and when he casually reached out to hand a soggy toy to you, it triggered a massive crying outburst.
The adults in the kitchen had laughed hysterically at the interaction, while a young Sae became genuinely frightened by your sudden, loud explosion of tears.
Rin, on the other hand, had simply blinked up at you in complete confusion, still holding the wet toy block in his mouth while his hand remained reached out toward you, trying to share.
But from that chaotic day onward, the two of you became nearly inseparable.
Sure you were still afraid of Rin but little by little you started thinking that Rin was just weird…in an endearing way.
From those day on you were over at the Itoshi residence so often that it began to be your second home.
Playing with Rin was always fun, and many lazy afternoons were spent carefully building massive blanket forts in the living room, only for the entire structure to collapse within minutes, leaving all three of you kids falling asleep in a tangled pile of pillows beneath the sheets.
When football was finally introduced to Rin's life, It usually ended with you trying—and almost always failing—to convince Rin to focus on studying his schoolwork instead of spending every single hour practicing with his big brother.
Whenever he disappeared outside into the yard with a black-and-white ball tucked tightly beneath his arm, you were usually the one chasing after him.
“Rin! We still have math homework to finish!”
“…Five more minutes.”
“You said that twenty minutes ago!”
He would only offer a quiet shrug before kicking the ball against the goal again, leaving you grumbling under your breath and sighing.
As the years passed, absolutely nothing changed about the bond you shared.
You grew up together, standing on the sidelines at every single one of the Itoshi brothers' youth games, cheering loudly before coming back to their house to eat dinner with the family.
You were present at each other's birthdays, celebrating every milestone and constantly cheering each other on.
Then, everything changed. The day Sae came back from Spain was a horrible, it completely ruined the peace of the Itoshi household and fractured both of the brothers permanently.
You had never seen Rin cry the way he did after that brutal confrontation. His voice cracked terribly as while he tried to act like he was perfectly fine on the walk back, only for his entire composure to collapse the moment the front door closed behind him.
He didn't go to his parents for comfort, nor did he look for anyone else; he came straight to you.
He buried his face deeply against your shoulder, his chest heaving as he desperately tried to stop crying, while your arms wrapped around his trembling frame without a single second of hesitation.
You simply held him tightly in the quiet room, rubbing his back and murmuring soothing words until the tears finally stopped.
After that day, Rin changed completely. Little by little, he became much quieter, more distant, and walked around with a personal, bitter agenda that he always carried.
He never fully explained or said what had been spoken between them on the field; he just flatly stated that he and Sae were completely done. And he hated him.
Whenever he was down, he never explicitly asked for comfort or admitted that he was hurting, but he always found himself standing outside your front door after a long day, silently pulling you into a sudden hug right there on the porch.
He never admitted that he needed company, yet he would sit right beside you in your room for hours in complete, heavy silence.
He never said thank you out loud, but he didn't need to.
Rin knew that you understood him better than anyone else in the world.
It was a strange arrangement. The two of you never actually dated, and no one ever officially defined whatever is going on between you, yet everyone around you automatically assumed that you were already a couple.
Your school friends teased you endlessly about him, and the teachers paired the two of you together for projects without a second thought, fully expecting you to help him with his assignments since he was barely passing his classes due to his football schedule.
Even complete strangers on the street occasionally smiled fondly at the sight of the two of you walking home side by side.
Neither of you ever corrected them, because how could you explain that , when the both of you don’t understand what you feel with one another
It was best to not talk about it and continue walking.
You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn't have romantic feelings for Rin.
Because you did.
You carried those feelings in your heart for years. You wondered sometimes, if he felt the exact same way about you, but Rin had never been good with words, and you had always been far too afraid to ask and ruin what you had.
You blindly assumed there would always be more time, which was your biggest mistake.
By the time high school rolled around, Rin had grown significantly taller than you.
He wasn't the crying little boy who chewed on his toys anymore or was quite naïve , he became intensely quiet and intimidating, making the other people in your class actively avoid talking to him altogether.
If someone needed to ask him a question, they would track you down instead, begging you to ask him for them.
You heard the whispered comments about him almost every single day in the hallways.
“…He’s kind of scary.”
“…Does he ever even smile?”
“…Too bad, I’d totally date him if he wasn't so blunt and rude.”
Then, the classmates would stare directly at you, because they knew you were practically his person—their words, not yours.
Those comments always made you laugh quietly to yourself, because the harsh, angry Rin everyone else knew wasn't the real Rin that you knew.
Rin would unconsciously slowed his walking pace whenever you fell a few steps behind him on the sidewalk.
He was your friend that would silently take your school bag from your hand to carry it himself while walking home, wordlessly sharing one of his earphones so the two of you could listen to music together.
You knew the one who would hand you his umbrella the exact second it started raining, stubbornly refusing to share it just so he could walk home getting entirely soaked himself to keep you dry.
He was the one who frowned deeply whenever you skipped lunch due to studying, and would place a wrapped convenience store sandwich on your desk during the break before quickly turning around.
“…You forgot to eat again,” he’d mutter, “You always do this. Here. Eat.”
“Yes, sir!” you’d tease softly.
He’d roll his eyes in annoyance, but the faint, dark pink dusting the tips of his ears betrayed his true feelings every single time.
Moments like those became so ordinary and became part of your daily routine. Your classmates, certainly noticed the details.
“So…” one of your close friends whispered one afternoon, leaning across their desk with an amused, knowing grin. “When are you and Itoshi finally going to admit that you're actually dating?”
You nearly choked on your drink, your face heating up instantly. “W-What?”
“Oh, come on. You two always act like you're together. Practically everyone in the school thinks so. Why do you think we always ask you to go up to him instead of doing it ourselves?”
“You literally wait for each other after school every single day,” another classmate chimed in from the side.
“That’s only because we walk home in the same direction,” you defended weakly.
“He literally carries your bag for you.”
“ because he says thatI’m carrying too much weight.”
“He literally buys your lunch.”
“But I pay him back for it!”
“Oh yeah? Remember last week when you two were holding hands in the hallway?” your friend chided dramatically
“That was only because I was walking so slow and he was trying to drag me along!”
“Yeah… right. Keep telling yourself that.” The friend scoffed, before continuing in a more serious tone.
“And he completely glared a guy down yesterday just for asking for your phone number.”
Your heart gave a sudden, hard thud against your ribs. “He… did?”
“You seriously didn’t notice? Ugh, you are so entirely helpless. Can't you see that the scary Rin Itoshi actually likes you?”
You honestly hadn't realized it. When you glanced out the window toward the football field later that afternoon, you saw that Rin was already standing out there, watching you from the grass.
The exact moment your eyes met through the glass, he sharply looked away, shoving his hands into his pockets.
You couldn't help but smile.
It was completely normal, which was exactly why neither of you ever felt the need to confess your feelings out loud. Why would you risk changing things?
Nothing would change anyway; you already belonged to each other. Or, at least, that was what you blindly believed.
It wasn't as though either of you were entirely oblivious to the tension.
There were moments that lingered just a second too long to be considered to be platonic.
Sometimes you would catch him staring at you when he thought you weren't looking, or he would lightly brush his fingers against your cheek under the excuse of brushing away a stray eyelash, and his touch incredibly soft.
His eyes would soften ever so slightly before he realize you were staring right back at him.
Then, he would abruptly clear his throat, look away, and pretend he had been watching something else entirely.
“…What?” you’d ask, a smile tugging at your lips.
“You were staring.”
“I wasn’t. You were the one staring.”
“You’ve gotten much worse at lying.”
“…Shut up.”
Even his teammates eventually began to notice the undeniable attachment.
After Blue Lock and everything that followed, he became a highly aspiring professional football player with massive club deals and promises of international fame.
“You know,” Bachira once grinned broadly during a break, playfully nudging Rin with his elbow in the locker room, “they treat you way more like a boyfriend rather than just a regular childhood friend.”
Rin’s face immediately darkened into a harsh scowl. “Shut up.”
“What? I’m just saying the truth!”
“They’re not my girlfriend.”
“Oh?” Bachira tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “But you didn't deny wanting them to be.”
Rin’s ears instantly flushed a deep, bright crimson. “Shut. Up.”
The entire locker room erupted into loud laughter at his rare display of embarrassment, while Rin glaring at every single one of them.
Later that afternoon on the walk home, he stubbornly refused to look you in the eye, keeping his gaze fixed on the pavement.
“…Did the guys say something to you during practice?” you asked curiously.
“…No.”
“They definitely did. Your face is red.”
“…Go away.”
Instead of actually leaving his side, you laughed so hard that you nearly lost your balance, having to lightly hold onto his forearm to keep yourself steady.
He let out a long, heavy sigh, but he didn't pull his arm away from your grip.
“…You’re so annoying.”
“But…” you trailed off, looking up at him.
“…you still choose to hang out with me every single day.”
“Yeah.”
“Why do you?” He was quiet for a very long time, long enough that you genuinely assumed he was just going to ignore the question and change the subject.
But finally, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, he spoke.
“…Because it’s you.”
Three simple, words.
Your heart gave a loud thump in your chest.
“…Oh…”
He never elaborated on what he meant. For someone like Rin Itoshi, that was practically a full love confession.
You couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the walk home, the warmth in your chest making you completely forget about the cold breeze.
You noticed the elderly couple watching the two of you from across the street.
The old woman gently nudged her husband's arm with a fond, nostalgic smile on her face.
“They’re so young,” she murmured.
“They’re entirely in love,” her husband chuckled softly, watching your retreating figures.
“They don’t even know it yet.”
“They will,” he replied knowingly. “They will.”
You wished the old man had been right
Because he wasn’t.
It never happened. Neither of you ever confessed your feelings, not because the love wasn't there, but because the two of you believed there would always be a tomorrow.
You blindly assumed there would always be another slow walk home , another birthday to celebrate, another afternoon forcing Rin to study, and another chance to tell him the truth.
Hubris was a funny thing and had a cruel way of ruining people before they even realize they are falling.
And life just kept on moving,
Football began to demand far more of Rin more and more. You were also busy in college trying to pass your classes and balance internships, research or part time.
Rin’s training camps that used to last a few days quickly stretched into weeks, and those weeks inevitably turned into months.
Your phone calls grew shorter, and the texts became less frequent until they stopped altogether.
Eventually, you stopped being the first person he called when his world spun out of control, and he stopped being the first person you instinctively searched for whenever you stood in a crowded room.
You simply drifted apart—slowly, until one day you looked across the gap and realized you no longer knew how to bridge the distance and he was too far too reach.
Years later, the massive stadium roared with applause of thousands cheering on and cameras flashing from every single direction.
It was just another victory, another interview coming up that he had to deal with and another award, that reminded him that he had successfully done it.
Rin didn’t care too much for it and he was a bit tired while his numb gaze simply wandered aimlessly across the endless sea of spectators in the stands.
Then, his eyes stopped. He saw you. At first, he tried to convince himself that his exhausted mind was just playing tricks on him, but it was unmistakably you.
You looked older, and undeniably happy.
There was that smile of yours that he hadn’t seen since the two of you were teenagers walking home beneath the evening sky.
You were laughing, but you weren't laughing with him.
You were laughing with someone else.
A man stood right beside you, leaning down closely to whisper something into your ear that made your smile widen even more.
Without a single thought, your hand found his, your fingers intertwining that it was obvious you were together.
The stranger smiled down at you the exact same way Rin used to imagine himself smiling at you one day, and you casually rested your head against his shoulder, looking entirely content.
Seeing you made Rin’s stomach twist in regret—all-consuming regret.
The crowd erupted into cheers once more as a staff member called his name from the tunnel, pulling him back to reality.
“Itoshi! You’re up!”
He blinked, almost as if waking from a dream. “…Yeah.” His voice was quiet.
He took a step toward the tunnel before instinct made him look back one last time.
His eyes found you immediately.
You were smiling.
It was a smile so warm, so carefree, so full of peace that it almost took his breath away.
You looked beautiful.
Beside the person you had chosen.
Beside the life you had built without him.
A small, bittersweet smile found its way onto Rin’s lips.
“…I’m glad,” he whispered, too quietly for anyone to hear.
“I’m glad you finally found someone who could love you the way you deserved.”
The words stung. Because inside him, he knew… He had wanted that person to be himself.
He turned away before he could look any longer, disappearing into the darkness of the tunnel as the roar of the stadium swallowed him whole.
But no matter how far he walked…inside the tunnel following the personnel who was escorting him .
His memories followed.
He remembered a tiny boy sitting on the floor of the Itoshi residence, happily chewing on colorful plastic toy blocks as if they were candy. And you bursting into tears because you were convinced he was some terrifying little monster, refusing to take the soggy toy he reached toward you with.
He remembered crying into your shoulder after Sae left for Spain and everything inside him fell apart.
He remembered every walk home.
Every quiet afternoon spent studying.
Every birthday.
Every promise.
And he remembered that day.
“…Because it’s you.”
Three simple words.
He had meant them with every part of his heart. But he had never found the courage to say the rest.
Because it’s you…
Because I always love you.
And I want to be with you.
Instead, he had convinced himself there would always be more time.
Tomorrow never came though.
As the tunnel lights stretched across the floor beneath his feet, Rin couldn’t stop himself from wondering…
Maybe, in another life—
One where he had been brave enough to speak, he would have been the one standing beside you.
Rin would have been the one making you laugh until your eyes crinkled at the corners.
Rin could been the one you came home to after long days.
The one who grew old beside you.
The one who kissed your forehead every morning.
Rin lowered his head with a faint smile that never reached his eyes.
“In another life…”
His voice disappeared beneath the deafening cheers echoing through the stadium.
“…I’ll be that guy.”
･ ༝ ･ Isagi Yoichi
You liked Isagi Yoichi. You liked him for longer than you wanted to admit, the both of you were in junior high when you first met, and you harbored a crush on him—always glancing and telling your friends hoe cute he looks whenever he embarrasses himself, but you kept those feelings tucked away in your heart because you never imagined he’d ever return them.
So when he confessed… You genuinely froze while hearing him speak.
His confession wasn’t some perfectly rehearsed confession beneath the falling cherry blossoms or a dramatic declaration in the pouring rain or with people that were surrounding you.
It was just…Isagi.
Standing in front of you, cheeks burning red, and nervously fidgeting with the sleeves of his uniform as he poured every thought in his heart out without holding anything back.
And a simple, “I really like you.”
And him stumbling over his proclamation and words over one another in his haste.
“I’ve liked you for a long time...” He laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “…I don’t really know how to say this without sounding embarrassing.”
He took a deep breath.
“…I really like you.”
“…Would you…please…go out with me?”
For a few seconds, you simply stared at him.
Then…you laughed. Making his smile disappeared almost instantly.
“…Ah.”He rubbed the back of his neck again, forcing out a sheepish smile.
“…Sorry. I knew that was kind of sudde—” Before he could finish, you threw your arms around him. His entire body stiffened.
“…I like you too…”
Silence.
“…Really?” You nodded against his shoulder.
“I’ve liked you for a long time too.” He let out a shaky laugh before wrapping his arms around you, holding you so carefully, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he held on too tightly.
That day…the two of you began dating.
And for a while, it was everything you had ever dreamed of.
Isagi always made time for you, no matter how packed his schedule became.
He’d call you after training just to hear your voice, text you good morning before sunrise, and excitedly ramble for hours about football until he realized he’d been talking for twenty minutes straight
You never minded, you loved seeing him happy and seeing his dreams slowly become reality. But then those dreams grew bigger.
Every milestone pulled him a little farther from you, and every success demanded more of his time. Yet somehow… He still tried to make room for you. He’ll still call you when he was exhausted even if he was overseas . He’d stay awake after long flights just to ask how your day had been.
He’d apologize whenever practice ran late and missed a scheduled call with you.
“…I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize…Yoi.”
“Well I do and we’ll go out after this season, I promise.”
After this season. Those words became a promise you heard over and over again.
And every time one season ended… another promise began.
You never blamed him for not keeping up with the promises.
How could you?
This was everything he’d worked so hard for and whenever you see him celebrate his goals on the pitch you smile so brightly and wave at him only for him to notice and grin widely looking at you.
You were proud of him, more proud than words could ever express.
But a thought began festering in the back of your mind.
You started wondering if you were becoming another responsibility he had to carry, it made you more insecure and anxious about your relationship.
Were you another person he had to make time for.
You watched him fall asleep during late-night phone calls because he was so exhausted and could barely even speak to you that you had yo make up the incoherent words he was saying.
You watched him skip meals to squeeze in one more interview before flying across the world again.
You watched him smile and tell you he was fine, even when the dark circles beneath his eyes said otherwise and you’d hear him loudly yawn.
And instead of asking him to stay…you made the decision for him.
If loving someone meant wanting what was best for them. Then maybe…The best thing you could do…Was let him go.
Even if he never once asked you to.
You knew you were the one who was wrong.
At least…That was what you told yourself every night.
You regretted thinking this way, you were truly doubting yourself but you cannot stand seeing him be so happy and chase his goals, you’d just feel you’ll drag him down.
You regretted walking away from someone who truly loved you.
Someone who had never once made you feel like a burden. Someone who had spent years proving that you mattered.
But you still believed… He needed to let go.
Yoichi needed to stop holding onto something that might keep him from reaching the future he had dreamt so hard for.
Of course, if you told anyone that…
They would probably call you crazy. Your mother will definitely get mad at you and maybe won’t even let you live up to this brutal mistake of breaking up with him.
They would ask how you could leave someone like Isagi Yoichi.
How you could walk away from the person who looked at you like you were the most important thing in his world.
You certainly didn’t want to tell anyone, especially Isagi. Maybe you were unable to commit to the relationship
Because if you said it out loud…someone might tell you that you were wrong. And you weren’t ready to hear that.
You watched Isagi grow closer and closer to the dream he’d spent his entire life chasing. And whenever reporters asked him who had supported him the most…
His answer never changed.
“My family…”
“My teammates…”
“And my partner.”
Then he’ll smile towards the camera and the interview would end there.
The breakup happened on an ordinary afternoon. You had invited Isagi over after he finally returned from another overseas training camp.
The moment he stepped inside, you noticed how tired he looked. You were already sitting in one of the dining chairs, your hands folded tightly in your lap, trying to calm the nervous pounding in your chest.
His suitcase still rested beside the front door where he’d left it, proof that he hadn’t even bothered to unpack before coming to see you.
“You should’ve rested first when you got here,” you said softly.
Isagi looked at you, then smiled—that same warm, genuine smile that had always made your heart feel lighter.
“I wanted to see you, so I came straight here.”
For one brief moment, you almost stood up, and wanted to wrap your arms around him, and pretended the thoughts that had been haunting you for months had never existed.
Instead, you lowered your eyes to your trembling hands.
“…Yoichi.”
“Hm?”
“I think…” your throat tightened so painfully that the words almost refused to come out.
“…We should break up.”
The room fell completely silent. The happy smile slowly disappeared from his face, replaced by confusion.
“…What?”
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”
His brows slowly knitted together. “Why? Why on earth would you think that?”
You didn’t want to look him in the eye at all “You’ve worked so hard to get where you are.”
“I know.”
“And you’re only getting busier.”
“…Yeah.”
“You don’t need to worry about me anymore.” His expression immediately changed.
“What?”
“You should focus on football.”
“I am focusing on football,” isagi argued back.“I don’t want to become another responsibility.”
“…Responsibility?”
His voice lowered.“What are you talking about?”
“You barely sleep.”
“So?”
“You’re constantly traveling.”
“That’s just part of my job.”
“You cancel dates because you’re exhausted.”
“I always try make it up to you.”
“But you apologize for everything.”
He then hesitated before quietly replying,
“Because I feel bad.”
You looked away.“…Exactly why…I don’t want you to be with me.”
He stared at you like he genuinely couldn’t understand what you were trying to say.“…I’m confused.”
“You don’t have to keep trying so hard anymore.”
His face fell.“…Trying?”
“You don’t need to force yourself to make time for me.”
“…Force?”For the first time, he laughed, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“…You think seeing you is something I force myself to do?”
Your chest tightened. “…Isn’t it?”
“No.” The answer came without even a second of hesitation.
He took a step closer. “Do you know what the first thing I do after every match is?”
You stayed silent.
“I look for my phone.”His fingers curled slightly at his sides.
“Because I want to text you.” Another step.
“When I score…”
“I want to tell you.”
“When I lose…”
His voice softened.
“I want you.”
Your eyes began to burn with tears falling down stinging as they began to roll on your cheeks.
“When I finally get a day off…”
“I spend weeks thinking about where to take you.”
He swallowed. “And somehow…”His voice cracked. “You’ve convinced yourself that you’re getting in my way?”
Tears blurred your vision.“…I just don’t want you sacrificing everything.”
“I’m not sacrificing anything.” Isagi remarked his voice also cracking and muffled crying were also heard.
“But you are yoichi, you are sacrificing time just to be with me. When you could’ve—“
He shook his head immediately. “The only thing I’m scared of losing…Is you.”
The room became unbearably quiet.
For one terrible moment, you wanted to believe hi’ and just hug him and let him console you, terribly wanted to forget every fear that had slowly taken root inside your heart.
You wanted to reach for him. “I think…”
You forced yourself to say, chocking on the words you were saying “…You’ll be happier without me.”
The look on Isagi’s face changed instantly, as though something inside him had shattered. “…Why?” His voice cracked.
“Why are you deciding that for me?”
You stayed still silently, “…because I’m scared for you.”
One day…I’ll be holding you back and I don’t want you to regret anything…I just want you to keep on going.”
“…I’m sorry…yoichi”
He stood there for a long time. Finally he nodded his head and wrapped his arms around you letting you cry onto him one last time.
“…If…” A weak, broken laugh escaped him.
“…If this is really what you want…” His hands clenched tightly “…Then I won’t stop you.”
It hurts Isagi saying that because he loved you and he loved you enough to respect a decision that was breaking both of your hearts.
As he reached the front door, his hand rested on the doorknob.
He didn’t turn around and look back at you,
“…I hope…” He paused. “I hope one day you realize…” His voice was quiet. “…You were never something I had to fit into my life.”
Another long silence followed. “…You were the life I wanted.”
The door closed softly behind him. That was the last time you saw each other as lovers.
At first, Isagi thought moving on would become easier if he buried himself completely in football.
He trained harder and slowly built the future he had always wanted just… without you.
Eventually, the ache inside him dulled he hadn’t completely forgotten and neither did it disappeared entirely.
But it faded enough that he stopped instinctively reaching for his phone after every match to send you a message and to the point that he had forgotten wanting to see your smile and hear your voice.
He became everything he had dreamed of becoming.
The world knew Isagi Yoichi as the football player who changed the game. A striker who never stopped evolving.
Yet, when he was all alone in his apartment , he still found himself wondering.
What if you had stayed?
What if he had noticed your fears sooner?
What if he had fought harder for you and made you stay?
The second time he saw you happened completely by chance.
Isagi had just finished another interview and was walking through the city, enjoying one of the few quiet moments he had away from cameras and expectations
Then… He saw you and your eyes met
The both of you didn’t utter a word or smile at each other, you two just completely stared at each-other other frozen in time while people were making their way.
You simply stared at one another from opposite sides of the sidewalk.
You looked just as surprised as he felt. There were so many things he wanted to say.
How have you been?
Do you ever think about us?
But the words refused to come and he didn’t even make a single move to reach out for you.
Before either of you could move, your friend looped an arm through yours with an excited laugh. “There you are! Come on, we’re going to lose our spot.”
Without realizing who was standing only a few feet away, they gently tugged you toward the bakery store that was beside you.
You stumbled slightly before glancing back over your shoulder.
For one brief moment…your eyes found his again.
A small smile appeared on your face and Isagi found himself smiling back.
“…Take care,” he whispered, though the words never reached you.
Then your friend pulled you through the bakery door, the little bell above it chiming softly as it closed behind you.
Isagi remained standing on the sidewalk for another few seconds, staring at the glass window where he could see you laughing with your friend inside, then walked away along side with the bustling crowd
･ ༝ ･ Reo Mikage
Reo came from a world completely different from yours. The Mikage family name had weight to carry . It was attached to wealth, influence, and generations of many expectations.
They were one of the most powerful families in the world, and from the moment Reo was born, his future had already been planned out for him.
Who he would become.
Who he would associate with.
Who he would eventually marry.
Everything had a purpose and it had to benefit to the family name, in no way would Reo’s family ever expect him to live down to the name.
And you… you were never part of that plan.
At first, Reo didn’t care and even went against his father’s whole speech about how it will be a disaster for him to stay with someone with a lower economical position.
Reo felt okay when he was with you, he was just Reo. Sure he’ll buy you things that you eyed, he’d like providing for you even if you tell him to stop, it was simply the way he wanted to show how much he loved you.
Reo always talked to you about the things that he liked and would always go on forever about football with genuine excitement, even though his family never understood why something so “ordinary” mattered so much to him.
They didn’t care about his dreams, they can support whatever he wanted.
Not really.
To them, football was a phase, it was just a hobby that wouldn’t last, they’ll let him continue playing but one of these days he’ll have to stop just so he can inherit the family name and responsibilities.
He’ll grow out of the phase, he hated having to deal with that but you were the person who believed in him
You were the one who told him he could chase something just because it made him happy. And for a while…Reo believed that was enough.
“I’ll convince them.”
He promised you one night, holding your hand tightly.
“I don’t care what they say.”
You looked at him carefully.
“Reo…”
“No.”His voice was firm.“I mean it.”
He looked very determined while making that promise to you ,“I’ll choose my own life.”
And you blindly believed him. Because Reo always made everything seem possible.
So you thought if anyone could stand against the Mikage family…It would be him.
But you underestimated how heavy expectations could become. At first, his family’s disapproval was subtle.
Comments during dinners.
Questions about your background.
Quiet reminders that someone like Reo had “responsibilities.”
They never openly insulted you.
They didn’t have to. The message was always clear. You weren’t what they envisioned for him. You weren’t someone who could help strengthen the Mikage name. You weren’t someone from their world.
It also included events where people from his circle would mock you or question you. It made you doubt and fear, but Reo would reassure you. It got to the point where his family gave you money to stop talking and interacting with him.
Reo found out immediately before they could pressure you into anything. You thought it would be like how common those rich and poor girl tropes were, and somehow you would make it out.
But slowly, the pressure started changing him. Reo began missing plans. He became quieter after family meetings. When he held your hand, he always seemed to start brushing it off. Whenever you asked what was wrong, he always gave you the same answer, I’m handling it.”
But you knew him. You knew when he was pretending. Still, you waited because he had promised, and because you loved him.
Then one day, the promise changed. “I think…” Reo stared down at his hands. “I think this is the right thing to do.”
Your heart sank. “Right thing?”
He did not look at you. “For both of us.”
“Oh.” You knew what he meant before he said it. It was a way for him to tell himself that leaving you was not cowardice. It was responsibility.
“I’m sorry.”
Those words just made you silent. Reo Mikage—the person who had everything—was apologizing because he could not give you the one thing you wanted. Him.
“No it’s okay, I just believed you Reo.”
His expression broke slightly. “I know.”
“You said you wouldn’t let them decide your life.”
“I know.”
Silence. There was no answer that would not hurt. Eventually, Reo looked away.
And that was when you realized. He was not choosing them because he wanted to. He was choosing the easier path.
It was the path where he did not have to fight and did not have to disappoint his family.
You understand the whole reason and weren’t afraid to let him go and be himself.
“Okay Reo, don’t feel bad I understand.” You hugged him tightly “thank you so much for everything.”
When you finally left, Reo did something that confused everyone.
He threw you a party. A huge one. It was the kind of extravagant celebration only someone like Reo Mikage could create.
There were beautiful decorations, expensive food, music, and your favorite flowers. It was a random party with nothing to celebrate, but he threw a party for you just so that you could see.
Everyone thought it was strange. A breakup party? Who did that? But Reo knew. He knew if he did not celebrate you, he would break.
So he smiled. He laughed. He acted like it was a normal goodbye. He gave a speech about how grateful he was to have met you, about how you changed his life, and about how you were the person who believed in him when nobody else did.
But everyone who knew Reo could see it. His smile never quite reached his eyes. Maybe it was a funeral instead of a party.
Years later, Reo would get everything his family wanted. He had the perfect image. If he had been a little braver, would you still be standing beside him?
Reo Mikage got everything everyone expected him to have. The Mikage family name grew stronger.
The businesses expanded even more and his reputation became exactly what his parents had always wanted.
He was the perfect heir, the perfect businessman, and the perfect representation of their family.
But ironically, the thing that made him happiest had nothing to do with any of that. It was his family
He had moved on and had a family of his own, being married to a wonderful person who supported him. He had moved on from you.
There were mornings when Reo would wake up to the sound of laughter echoing through his home.
And small hands grabbing onto him, demanding his attention before he had even finished his coffee.
There were messy breakfasts, toys left scattered around the house, and someone reminding him that he was supposed to stop checking emails during family time.
And every time, Reo would smile. This was the life he once thought he would never get to have. He was truly happy. He loved his family.
He loved the person beside him. He loved the life he created.
But sometimes, when the house grew quiet, his mind wandered. And somehow, it always went back to you.
He would practically laugh about how idiotic he was being back then with you, but he still felt hurt and knew he had really loved you. He wondered, where are you now?
The luxury hotel lobby was teeming with international business leaders, but Reo Mikage noticed you instantly.
You were standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, holding a glass of champagne, laughing at something a colleague had said.
You looked older and more breathtaking.
Reo’s feet moved before his mind could stop them, his tailored suit clicking softly as he walked toward you.
“Excuse me,” his voice cut through your conversation, familiar and smooth.
You turned around. Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, but you didn't look afraid.
You didn't look hurt. You looked at him like an old friend.
“Reo,” you breathed, a polite smile gracing your lips. “It’s been a long time.”
“It has,” he replied, his heart hammering against his ribs shock to see that you were in-front of him, when yesterday he wondered where you could’ve been.
He took in the sight of you—the confidence in your posture, the sophisticated air you carried, the absolute lack of the doubt that used to plague you at his family's events.
“Well look at you, I’m guessing you finally got that job.”
“Yes, I did,” you laughed at the remark Reo made. “Thank you, I heard about the Mikage expansion in the European Market—Congratulations. Your parents must be thrilled.”
“They are,” he said, a faint, self-deprecating smile touching his lips. “They got exactly what they wanted.”
There was a brief, heavy silence between you. It wasn't the suffocating silence of your breakup, but the quiet acknowledgment of a lifetime that had passed between you.
“And you?” Reo asked, his voice dropping slightly, genuine curiosity bleeding through his businessman facade. “Are you happy?”
You smiled, and this time, the warmth reached your eyes completely. “I am, Reo. Truly. I have a wonderful life. I hope you are doing okay too, you shouldn’t feel bad about what you did—I truly understand why you had too.”
Before he could answer, a man stepped up beside you, casually placing a hand on the small of your back.
He didn't look like a billionaire, but his attire did seem like he was a worker, maybe a lawyer?
“Honey, the car is here,” the man said gently, before turning to Reo with a polite nod. “Hello.”
“Reo, this is my husband,” you introduced him, your voice filled with pride from introducing him to him.
Reo felt a familiar, thud in his chest, but it was quickly swallowed by a profound sense of relief.
He extended his hand, shaking your husband's firmly. “Nice to meet you. I was just catching up with an old friend.”
Your husband shook his hand back, “Nice meeting you Mr.Mikage, congratulations on getting ambassadors sign the contract for your company buisness.”
“Thank you Mr….?” Reo trailed of asking for his name, “Its Mr. Kagami, Mr.Reo”
“We should go,” you told your husband, before looking back at Reo one last time. “It was good to see you, Reo. Take care of yourself.”
“You too,” he whispered.
He watched as you walked away, your hand slipping effortlessly into your husband's as you exited the hotel.
Reo stood there for a long moment, watching the glass doors slide shut.
He wasn't heartbroken at all, he felt happy seeing you make it to your dreams.
Then he pulled out his phone, looking at a picture of his own children messily eating pancakes from that morning.
He smiled. You had both made it out of the trope alive.
You had both found your happiness.
･ ༝ ･ Oliver Aiku
Oliver Aiku was never the kind of person expected to settle down. Everyone knew his reputation—the endless flirting, the chaotic parties, and that slicked-back, effortless charm.
But Aiku loved you, you two first met at some random party you had been dragged to, where he immediately decided to hit on you.
You remember not wanting to give in but he made you laugh so much that night than you noticed his eyes falling in-love the more you laughed, you jokingly commented, “you have a way with words.” In which he just smirked and whispered into your ear, making you laugh once more.
One thing led to another and the both of you ended up dating eachother.
You knew his background, but despite his notorious past, before everything became official.
He completely stopped being a womanizer just to spend all his free time in his apartment with you, watching you lounge around wearing his oversized shirts.
You would sit on his bed, leaning your back against his broad chest while he softly hummed, absentmindedly playing with your fingers before leaning down to kiss you and dragging the blanket completely over your heads to hide from the world.
That affection was never the question or the problem of the relationship.
The real problem was that love simply wasn’t enough, especially when someone wasn't ready to grow up.
The pregnancy wasn’t something either of you had planned. It was unexpected and terrifying.
You were consistently taking your birth control pills, so a pregnancy scare was never supposed to be an actual problem, right? The reality of it was completely life-changing and it scared you to shit, your family reaction and especially Oliver’s.
The apartment smelled faintly of the rain outside, the dim afternoon light filtering through the blinds in dull, gray shadows.
Oliver had just come back from a grueling team training session, his duffel bag dropping onto the entryway floor with a heavy thud that made you flinch.
He was laughing joking about what happened in practice today, as he walked into the living room, his hair damp from the shower, completely wrapped in that, charm that usually made your heart melt.
But the moment his eyes landed on you sitting completely rigid on the edge of the couch and your leg was shaking from bouncing it up and down, his smile faltered.
You were holding a small plastic stick tightly in your hand, your knuckles white from the pressure.
You had been staring at it for an hour, your mind racing through a blur of multiple thoughts that were swallowing you, it was too late to get an abortion and about the birth control pills you never missed, desperately wishing the two solid lines would magically fade away.
“Hey,” Oliver said softly, his voice losing its usual playful lilt as he slowly crossed the hardwood floor.
He dropped to his knees right in front of you, his large, calloused hands gently taking yours to look up into your face. “What’s that face for? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
You couldn't even speak. Your throat felt entirely tight, blocked by a heavy wave of nausea and sheer panic.
Without a word, you loosened your grip and let the positive pregnancy test slide into his palm.
Oliver looked down at it. For a long, agonizing moment, the only sound in the apartment was the ticking of the wall clock and the steady patter of raindrops against the windowpane.
The confidence he always wore like a second skin completely vanished. His eyes widened, and his jaw tensing as he stared at the two lines, his thumbs trembling slightly against your fingers.
The guy who lived his life completely in control of his body and his choices in his life cannot, outrun or outplay what he is currently seeing.
“Are you… is this real?” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly as his teal eyes snapped up to meet yours.
He looked entirely pale, the reality hitting him like a physical blow. “But the pills—I thought we were safe.”
“We were supposed to be,” you managed to choke out, a hot tear finally slipping down your cheek. “Oliver, I’m scared. I am so scared.”
The panic in his eyes flared instantly, raw and suffocating, but he desperately tried to force his signature confident smile back onto his face.
He scrambled up onto the couch beside you, pulling you into his chest with a sudden, tight urgency.
He buried his face in your hair, his hands rubbing your back in quick, frantic motions as he tried to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince you.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his heart hammering violently against your ear. “I’ve got you, babe. It’s okay. We’re adults, right? We can do this. I’ll figure it out. I’ll talk to the club, I’ll do better, I swear I will. I won't let you carry this alone.”
You leaned heavily against him, wrapping your arms around his neck, crying so loudly while he hold you tightly and kissing your cheek to soothe you. You desperately wanted to believe the promises he was whispering into your skin.
You wanted to believe that the man who loved you would stay right there in the trenches with you.
But even as he held you, you could also feel how terrified he was.
You could feel the underlying terror of a man who suddenly felt his freedom slipping away, a man who wasn't ready to be anyone's father.
And deep down, in the quiet spaces of your heart, you already knew that this was the exact moment the running began.
While you both were technically adults responsible for your choices, the sudden weight of the situation hit Aiku harder than he ever wanted to admit to you.
Because suddenly, he wasn’t just Oliver Aiku the famous football player—the guy who could freely chase whatever he wanted.
He desperately wanted to support you and grow as a person, but the thought of actually becoming someone’s father scared the absolute shit out of him.
He panicked.
At first, he made countless promises that he would change. He held you tight and swore that he would figure it out, do better, and step up to the plate. You wanted to believe him.
You really did, because this was the man you loved with all your heart, the same man who used to hold your hand tightly and tell you everything would be okay.
But promises only mattered when real actions followed them.
Aiku miserably struggled to keep up with the incoming reality, choosing to bury his panic in absolute silence.
He began to excuse himself from the house. Training quickly became a convenient excuse to stay away, and his football matches turned into an emotional escape. The late nights and the parties didn’t stop immediately either.
Every single time you confronted him about his absence, he would apologize over and over, promising that the next time would be different.
He would look at you with vulnerable eyes and admit that he was just terrified, that he had no idea what he was doing, and that he would get better.
But you couldn’t raise a newborn child on empty promises. You needed someone who would actually stay—someone who would stand by your side when things got difficult.
The absolute hardest part of it all was that you knew he loved your child.
You knew he did, deep down. But love from a distance didn’t change the fact that you were the one waking up alone in the middle of the night to soothe a crying baby.
You were the one learning how to navigate motherhood entirely by yourself. You were the one carrying the crushing weight of the responsibility because he simply wasn’t ready to face his fears. And having to deal with post-partum depression, plus people who kept on criticizing and mocking you.
Your family urged you and Oliver to tie the knot, they also didn’t stop with their passive remarks about your mistake.
Eventually, you stopped waiting for him to man up and start staying, it was best to let him go…you were tired of dealing with him. You stopped hoping that one day he would suddenly wake up and become the responsible person he kept promising to be.
You realized you couldn’t keep building a life around someone who kept running away from it. So, you left.
When you walked out the door, you made your boundaries entirely clear to him.
You told him firmly not to show his face to you, and not to come back crawling when he suddenly decided he was finally ready to be a father.
You told him that you would keep in contact solely for the child's sake, but warned him never to come back crying and begging on his knees to be a father and be a husband to you, you won’t let him.
Aiku remembered those parting words vividly because they cut him to the core. They hurt immensely because they were entirely true.
He had been the one who pushed you away. He had been the one who disappeared when things got real.
He had been the one who foolishly convinced himself that staying away was somehow protecting you both from his shortcomings.
But really, he was just a coward pathetic person, who was terrified of failing. Instead of facing that fear, he ran. And by running, he lost precious years that he could never get back.
Years later, Aiku saw his child. It wasn’t in person, but rather a simple family photograph posted online. It was a picture of you, your little girl, and another man.
Aiku stared at the glowing screen for a painfully long time.
Because right there, captured in a single frame, was the exact life he was supposed to have. It was the moment he was supposed to be a part of. His child was smiling brightly, looking incredibly happy and entirely safe.
It completely broke him to realize that his daughter was calling another man “Dad.”
Someone else had been there for all the monumental moments he had missed.
Someone else witnessed her very first steps and heard her first spoken words. Someone else got to celebrate the birthdays, soothe her on the bad days, and cheer for her on the good days. Someone picked her up from school and took her for ice cream.
Another man had stepped up to become the father he should have been.
Aiku understood that he fucked up and what his fear had cost him.
He had spent years running under the impression that he needed more time, more career preparation, and more proof that he could handle the pressure of fatherhood.
But life never worked like that, there’s no pause button. You had to choose and live with that decision you made.
The worst, most agonizing part of looking at the photo was that his daughter looked so much like him.
She had the exact same facial expressions, the same effortless smile, and the inherent his eyes including his charm. You texted him about how your daughter suddenly got many suitors with small boys offering letters to her but she’ll just ignore them and move on.
It made him laugh, hearing that.
She was a tiny, beautiful piece of himself that he had completely abandoned because he let fear win.
Aiku sat alone in the quiet room,
Then, his eyes caught the caption of the photo, and his chest tightened until he could barely breathe.
You had given her the exact name you used to whisper in his ear late at night when the two of you were still tangled in his bedsheets.
Back then, he would playfully argue with you, teasing that your first child was going to be a boy, but you would always laugh and remind him that your family was known for having girls first.
Seeing that name under the photo—and seeing another man stepping in to live out the exact future you had dreamed of with him—hurt more than any loss he had ever faced on the pitch.
Written by Jammy. Please do not copy and paste or feed my work into an AI. This was completely written by hand, thank you for stopping by and reading!
